


A Matter of Trust

by theprettynerdie



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1549418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprettynerdie/pseuds/theprettynerdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in response to this prompt from tumblr: "Could you write about if Haytham DID persuade Connor into the Templar ways and what Haythams reaction would be?! Could you do it out of Haythams perspective?! ID LOVE YOU FOR EVER. AND IM ALWAYS LOOKING OUT FOR MORE BONDING ONES"</p><p>Send me Haytham Kenway prompts on tumblr and I'll write them!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Trust

The daily arguments with Achilles had grown steadily worse. It seemed as though the old man, as set in his ways as he was, could not entertain the notion that the Patriots were growing steadily more barbaric in their ways. The Templars, he argued, cared little for the Native people of the colonies; their aim, he contended, was to merely exploit them as they had done during the so-called French and Indian War. Still, Connor could not help but feel as though the Patriots themselves were the exploiters in many of the situations he had recently seen. There had been that awful attack several weeks previously when a band of Minutemen had stumbled upon a Native hunting party, and the rape of an innocent woman dragged from her home when another such group passed through on their way to join Washington’s men at Valley Forge. Though he knew the Templars intended to control all they could, and that such an event could not come to pass, Connor found it increasingly difficult to defend the Patriots when they refused to acknowledge the cruelty of their own brothers in arms.

 

* * *

 

“What’s on your mind, son?”

Aboard the Aquila, there was very little room for time alone. As a result, the voyage to the Caribbean was spent in close quarters with a very sullen-looking Connor. At Haytham’s words, the boy looked up, his eyes marked with a far-away look. He did not expect an honest answer from him, truth be told, but the words were not what Haytham sought to use to divine an answer; he knew more from body language than anything else.

Connor squared his shoulders and let out a sigh. “My thoughts are with my people. There have been many attacks in the area recently.”

“Hmm, and you worry for their safety?” Haytham said. “Never you mind; my men are defending them. I’ve seen to it.”

“You have?” Connor’s surprise overcame his desire to remain stoic in his father’s presence. Haytham frowned.

“You do not trust my desire to protect innocents?”

“No, I did not know the Templars were in the habit of defending people unless it furthered their own goals.”

“Then you do not truly understand the fundamentals of the Templar Order!” Haytham snapped, rounding on Connor. “Tell me, how can you fight us when you haven’t the faintest idea of what it is you are fighting against?”

“I am fighting for freedom!” Connor retorted, fists clenched. “And against the oppression that the Templars would have us all suffer.”

“Oppression!” Haytham jeered. “Tell me, what would you call the attack that killed your mother?”

Connor’s face reddened as he go to his feet. “Murder!” he shouted. “By your command!”

“You see?” Haytham’s voice, by contrast, was measured. “You see what I mean when I say you know nothing of the Templars?”

“What do you mean?” Connor demanded.

“The Templars neither initiated nor participated in any such attack, Connor. That was the work of your good friend Commander Washington.”

The silence that followed Haytham’s pronouncement was palpable. The look of anger on his son’s face turned at once to one of confusion. “Washington?”

“Yes, Washington. He was the one who called for the burning of your village fourteen years ago. Trying to fend off French sympathizers during the war, of course.”

“That’s not possible,” Connor said, anger returning to his voice – though it was an anger of a different sort. “I know him. He is a man of principle.”

“And what principles do you assume those are? Believe me, Connor, should this war turn in the Patriots’ favor, there will be a population to placate. Where do you think they will turn when their towns’ supplies run dry, when the British are no longer offering their wares?” Haytham’s voice rose as he rounded on his son. “The first thing they shall do is see the land and resources of your people and turn on them.”

“My people have no reason to oppose the Patriots. Why should they turn on us in that way, after the aid I have given them?”

“You truly think these men will honor such actions? That they see you or your people as anything more than a nuisance? You need only look at the most recent massacres to know that even as you aid them, the Patriots will disgrace your land and murder your people. Once they no longer have to contend with the British, what do you think will happen then? They will have no need of alliances. They will see the land as theirs. With the Patriots in control, there can only be more destruction.”

Connor seemed lost in thought as he pondered this. They were not, after all, just words; Haytham knew he spoke the truth. “You were not the only one who lost someone to Washington’s barbarism, son,” he said softly, patting his son gently on the shoulder, but Connor turned away from his touch at once. Haytham breathed deeply.

“When I heard what happened to your mother – well, why do you think I oppose Washington as stridently as I do? Why do you think the Templars wanted him dead? Connor, this man and his men cannot continue their war of aggression. If they do, there can only be chaos and death for your people.”

The look on Connor’s face was one of complete despondence as he turned away from his father. For his part, Haytham stood in desperation. All he had ever longed for, ever since forming this alliance with his son, was for Connor to see the reason behind his words. The Assassin that stood before him was not some mindless killer; he was a fiercely moral, spirited leader, one who sought only to fight for justice and truth. Haytham himself only desired order and righteousness. The two men aimed for peace; their only difference was the means by which they hoped to achieve it. And ever since they had crossed paths, it was clear that their hearts and minds were, in a way, very much alike. If only Connor could find it within himself to accept the same means by which to achieve his ends as Haytham did, the two would certainly make a formidable team.

There was a long bought of silence as Connor seemed to ponder all that his father had told him. Finally, the boy sighed and turned back to Haytham once more.

“What … would you have me do?” he asked.

“Only trust me, son,” Haytham said at once, placing a hand upon his son’s shoulder. This time, Connor did not shrug him away. “Together we can make this land a safe place, one of peace.”

“I do not trust the Templars,” Connor said. “But … I do trust you.”

It seemed most difficult for him to speak the words. Once he had, however, a kind of accord appeared to have been struck.

 

* * *

 

Lee, Connor told him, was not negotiable. Only his death could bring about any sort of real alliance between himself and the Templars. The resultant argument had been long and arduous, but in the end, Haytham had reluctantly relented. To bring an Assassin into the fold, and his son at that, was well worth the disposal of his longtime right-hand man. And after all, Lee had become more of a loose cannon of late, prone to fits of rage and violence that more often than not had threatened new alliances and even endangered several small missions. Worse yet, his desire to usurp Washington’s position seemed to be taking precedence over his duties to the Templar order. Such a thing was dangerous indeed, and discord within his ranks was something Haytham could not abide.

So it was that, after dispatching Church in the Caribbean and returning to New York, Haytham came to call on Charles at his Virginia estate. Lee beamed widely as Haytham met him in his parlor, and conversation turned at once to the matter of General Washington’s ineptitude, as it always seemed to with Lee. His precious dog Spado II, who was presently laying by his master’s feet, pricked up his ears in the midst of all this and let out several loud barks. Lee hushed him at once, apparently eager to delve back into his attack on Washington’s character. This was fortunate, because had Lee heeded his dog’s warning, he would have seen Connor push open the window at the back of the room and creep up silently behind him.

“Charles,” Haytham interrupted finally, and his second-in-command went quiet at once. “I must confess, there is another reason for my visit than mere pleasantries.”

“On to business then, Master Kenway?” Charles said.

“Indeed.” Haytham nodded. As he did so, Connor, who by now was situated behind Lee’s chair, drew his blade and pressed it to the man’s throat. “Make a sound,” Haytham warned him, “and you die.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “Master Kenway!” he said. “What – I do not understand - ”

“You remember my son Connor, do you not, Charles?”

At this, Lee snarled. “Sir – ” he began in a measured voice, “you would stoop to allying yourself with an Assassin? This Assassin, no less?”

“This Assassin, yes. He had proven himself more than capable at dealing with threats to the Templar order, which you, I am sorry to say, cannot claim for yourself most recently.”

“I have only sought to advance the Templars’ work, and yours!” Lee exclaimed. “You would trade my service for this half-breed?”

“I would hold my tongue if I were you,” Connor spat, pressing the blade closer to Lee’s throat.

“Indeed,” Haytham agreed. By now, Spado II had taken to barking up a storm. “I would advise you to calm that beast of yours before I do so permanently. And you know how I abhor such unnecessary violence, Charles.”

Glaring at the Grand Master, Lee did as he was bidden. Temperamental though he was, Lee’s soft spot had always been his pets. Even with his own life on the line, he would not dare do anything to put Spado in harm’s way.

Of course, his defense of such animals when, at the very same time, he found it prudent to murder and slander innocent Natives was not something lost on Haytham.

“Now then,” he said. “As I say, your service most recently has been quite troublesome. Indeed, I wonder if perhaps your ambition has gotten in the way of your dedication to the Templar Order?”

“You know this is not the case, Master Kenway!” Lee urged. “From the very beginning, the only thing I have focused on is the cause – your cause – our cause!”

“I fear that is no longer the case, Charles,” Haytham said sadly. “You have been a loyal member of the Order, but your recent actions have endangered our ability to effect change in the colonies.”

“You – you can’t kill me!” Lee proclaimed. “Murdering a Templar brother who has never abandoned the fold – it’s heresy!”

“But you see Charles, I shall not be killing you. The Assassin will,” Haytham said. He turned away. “Goodbye Charles.”

Lee’s cries of protest were drowned out by Connor’s words, spoken in his native tongue, and then a bloodcurdling scream, articulated for only a moment, was snuffed out by a hand against his mouth as Connor dragged his blade across Lee’s throat. When Haytham turned back, Lee was still.

“What did you say to him?” he asked his son as Connor wiped the blood off his blade with Lee’s shirtsleeves.

“I told him ‘This is for my mother.’”

Haytham considered his son for a moment. The boy looked, once again, lost in thought. He had clearly been planning this particular assassination for years. Now that it was over, Connor’s life had been forever changed.

Now was the time.

“Son,” Haytham said, his words careful and deliberate as he moved toward him and looked him in the eye directly, “Lee’s passing – it leaves the colonial Templars with no second-in-command.”

Only a fool would have been unable to tell what was coming next. Connor looked up at his father, his face determined. “I am ready,” he said with a sigh. No doubt his thoughts were with Achilles – the old man would surely be disappointed. But Connor did not let this overwhelm him. “Father.”

Haytham smiled. For once, it seemed, things were perfectly in order.


End file.
